This past Saturday I was looking forward to catching a little shut-eye. My daughter, Vivien, 6, had other plans.

"I have my first soccer game today!" she squealed.

It was hard to try burrowing further under the blankets when greeted by her freckled-face and toothless grin peering down at me with excitement.

"Five more minutes?" I pleaded.

I donít even know why I asked. Vivi proceeded to jump on the bed and ask if she could put on her uniform. It was only 7 a.m. and the game was at 9:45 a.m.

Eventually I rolled out of bed. I think I showered, but canít remember. Mornings are not my favorite time of day. As an assistant volunteer coach I probably should make more of an effort and not look like I brushed my hair with a pillow when arriving at the fields.

Our team, the Flyers, had a few new girls, but many familiar faces had returned. Everyone was giggly and happy to be there, a complete transformation from last year.

No tears, no making bracelets out of blades of grass, no clinging to mom or dad. Nope, these girls were ready to play!

We ran through a practice, reminding the kids to keep their heads up, to keep the ball close to their bodies when dribbling and ended with a mean game of "snake."

Then it was time for the game.

Last year, the girls were dropping like flies, each wanting to take a water break so they could socialize on the sidelines.

I was shocked when no one asked for a sub. I was even more impressed when Vivi ran out to me on the field and asked if she could come back in after being subbed for a few minutes.

Every now and then I realize I have to stop and take in the moment. Even when they are less than pleasant, as they were last year when Vivien turned on the water works if asked to come back into the game or denied the role of line-leader.

In a blink, our kids change. We find ourselves wishing for one more day in diapers, despite the stinky odor, or one more hug before school drop off, instead of rushing out the door.

Observing Vivienís transformation made me realize my beautiful girl isnít a baby anymore. She is my last, so she is indeed my baby.

Watching her sprint up and down the field, make passes to teammates and score two goals was a fabulous feeling. But thatís not what made my heart soar. It was the look on her face after the game.

She oozed confidence with a smile that said she was happy to have accomplished something on her own. Vivi didnít need to be reminded to pay attention during the game; instead she played without any prompts.

Page 2 of 2 - And even though Vivien no longer needed to hold my hand, she did look to me for a high-five.

Things are changing.

The chapter of holding her tiny hand clasped in mine is closing, but I accept the slap of her high five as the beginning of a new one.

Heather Gillis Harris is reporter for the Country Gazette. A three-sport high school athlete and two-sport college athlete, sports have long been a passion of hers. The mother of two can be seen keeping it real in Mansfield, where she resides. Heather Gillis Harris can be reached at hharris@wickedlocal.com. Follow her on Twitter @heatherharrisWL. Follow the Gazette on Twitter @CountryGazette.